Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BELLA

W hen he tells me it's better if I don't know about his work, his tone gets even more savage. I half-expect him to pull the car over and tell me to get out, which, considering we're on the very outskirts of the city, probably wouldn't be a good idea.

My leg feels like it's glowing from where he touched it. It was so casual and matter-of-fact as if he'd done it countless times. Neither of us commented on it, but it was searing hot. When he began to slide higher, I almost wanted to let him. Let him touch my sex, press down, rub my clit, make me as crazy in real life as he does in my fantasies.

Whenever he looks at me with that fiery expression, it's like he's trying to get me to guess something. Maybe about his work? I saw him get violent …

I don't let my mind go there. I just want to focus on this night owl adventure for now. Is that cowardly? Is that because if I know the truth, I might be forced to choose?

Soon, Matt takes a left into a small national park. The parking lot is empty at this time of night. He stops, switching off the engine and leaving us in darkness.

"Less light pollution out here," he says after a pause. His tone is suddenly slightly withdrawn. Maybe all that work talk killed his vibe.

No more nerves … I silently yell the words in my head as I reach over and touch his hand. "What are we waiting for then, huh?"

He looks down at my hand touching his and then up into my eyes. "Good point."

After we climb out of the car, he offers me his hand again. Each time feels like a big moment. There's this weird energy between us since, technically, we're not involved romantically. There's also something— Can I think it? — magical about how easy it feels. Natural.

I squeeze his hand, feeling his warmth as we walk toward the deeper darkness of the trees. Twigs crunch beneath our feet as we stick to the path, snippets of stars and moonlight shining our way.

"For somebody never accused of being romantic, you sure picked a good spot," I say. "Or maybe you've found the perfect place to bury me!"

Okay. Bad joke. He spins and glares down at me. His ordinarily stoic eyes are suddenly wild with emotion. "Don't even joke about that," he grunts.

"Okay, sorry."

He sighs tiredly. "No, I'm sorry. It's just not funny.

Well, this is a pretty serial-killerish spot , I almost say, but honestly, I'm touched by how offended he is by the very suggestion.

"Shall we keep going?" I ask.

He squeezes my hand. "Sure."

The park is peaceful, with critters chirping from the brush. Soon, we emerge from the trees into a clearing. Matt leads me to a bench, and we sit down.

"Look up," he says in a husky voice that sends tingles dancing all over me.

The stars are so much clearer out here, not quite as clear as outside the city. Yet there's enough darkness for a gorgeous sky to beam down on us. Matt wraps his arm over my shoulder. He does it slowly, almost nervously, like he expects me to move away from him, but I don't.

If I were feeling melodramatic, I'd even think I can't . Instead, I do what feels natural. I move closer to him and rest my head against his shoulder. He hugs me even closer.

"You keep proving the whole not-romantic thing wrong," I murmur.

"Maybe you just bring it out in me. Wait, you've got a twig in your hair."

"I do?"

I look up as he gently removes it, then slides his hand through my hair again. His big hand is surprisingly tender as he takes a bunch of my hair—not grabbing it, more holding it in place—and stares into my eyes. Deeply. It's like he's never stared at anybody before.

"You're so beautiful, Bella," he groans, almost like he wishes it wasn't that way, almost like he resents me for it, knowing this will end badly, and he'd rather not get started to begin with. Maybe I'm letting the moment flood me with too much emotion. My thoughts skip from place to place.

"Nobody's ever said that to me before."

"Good," he growls, leaning down.

Time slows as I try to figure out what he means. Why would that be a good thing? So that nobody else can call me beautiful? Because he wants me all to himself?

Be in the moment .

Our lips touch. Lust- and warmth-filled music swell inside me with notes even more beautiful than the greatest symphony. He groans through the kiss, sliding his hands down my body. I grab his shoulders and hug closer to him, scared to end the kiss in case I realize what I'm doing and let nerves get involved.

He pushes firmer against me, his hand on my leg, my bare thigh. My body buzzes and sizzles. I try to stop myself and tell him we can't do that here. Maybe tell him why, too.

Then he pushes his tongue into my mouth, and I can't think about anything else. Just the sensation of our tongues stroking together, eagerly finding each other. His hand slips higher and higher up my leg, under the hem of my dress, and then he keeps going.

"Ah," I moan and then quickly kiss him again.

Don't think. Don't think. Don't think …

When he breaks off the kiss, I think he realizes he's gone too far, but then he looks around. He's making sure nobody can see us.

Kissing me again, he slides his hand to my underwear. He presses his down firmly, making my core ache and my clit throb with pleasure. He pushes his palm against me, rubbing up and down, smearing my wetness all over myself.

The tingles are insane now, like nothing I've ever felt. I shift my hips with him entirely on instinct, not even having to think about it. It's the bubbling tension in me directing my movements. I never thought lust was going to feel this natural. Then again, I never imagined a Matt DeLuca before.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me. So hot. So perfect."

He gently pushes my underwear aside. When his finger brushes against my core, I let out a moan. I can't keep it inside. I don't think it will be loud, but the silence of the park makes it dominate the whole area.

"That makes me so hard," he snarls. "The way you moan … It's music."

Slowly, he pushes his finger inside of me. An entirely new feeling grips my whole being. Pleasure swims up from his fingertip as he pushes it deeper. The groaning noises he makes are just as hot as the physical feeling like he can't believe how good it feels for him , somehow.

When I moan again, a shudder moves through him. I can feel it in his hand, the way it subtly vibrates deep inside of me, his fingertip caressing a spot of pure pleasure. He moves it in circles, causing my hips to follow the feeling, to chase the release.

"Keep going," he growls.

"I was … about to … tell you … the … suh-same … thu-thing …"

He presses his lips against mine again, snarling as he kisses me, then leans back so he can look down at me. My vision blurs, but I can see the intent in his focused expression. He wants—oh, God, maybe needs —to hear my moans and see the pleasure on my face.

"You're going to come so hard for me," he growls. "All over my hand. I can feel it."

"You … can?"

"I can feel your pussy getting tighter around my finger. Wetter. I can feel your clit swelling, all needy and horny as fuck. "

Yes , I try to moan, but no words come out. Yes, yes, yes …

He moves his hand even quicker, fucking me with his finger now, making me wonder what a dick would feel like. No, no, not a dick. His dick.

Soon, it becomes too much to handle. It's like he's going to make me freaking take off with how much pleasure he's dishing out, the constant movement of his hand sending thrumming signals through me that has my clit burning and something deep inside trembling.

I can't think or question or doubt as he swirls his finger even faster inside of me. Right as the orgasm grips me, I squeeze my legs together around his hand, trapping him there like I'm afraid he's going to take away the bright, soul-aching feeling.

He kisses me again like he wants to capture the pleasure. Our teeth butt against each other. I gasp as wave after wave of euphoria washes through me, my thighs tingling.

As the orgasm ends, Matt suddenly stands up, staring down at me with moonlight shimmering in his eyes. He looks suddenly torn, almost as though he regrets what we did.

"Fix your clothes quickly," he says, voice harsh.

Is this all he wanted me for, then? He didn't want any real closeness, any real?—

But when he gestures behind us, I break free from the spell and hear the voices. People are coming. I quickly adjust my dress and climb to my feet. The voices get louder as they grow closer, a man and a woman. Matt takes my hand and leads me away, but I walk slower, listening to the snippets.

"Can you imagine where we'll be in ten years? Maybe we'll have a little house with a garden." The man's voice deepens with hope.

"Wait," I murmur once we're back under the cover of the trees.

"Why?" Matt says softly, looking down at me.

"I want to listen," I admit.

He smirks, teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Eavesdrop, you mean."

Now, the woman is speaking. "I always wanted a dog. What kind of job do you think you'll have?"

"Something creative, I hope. Maybe I'll be a writer or an artist, but whatever it is, I just want to be happy, you know?"

"As long as we're together, we'll be happy. I want to travel with you and see the world. Do you think we could do that?"

I squeeze my hand even tighter onto Matt's. I'm not sure why I'm doing this. I can't even see them. They must be under the cover of the trees on the other side of the clearing. Something is tempting in their words. Na?ve, maybe futile, but I almost wish Matt and I were, what, talking about the future? I need to get a grip.

"I'd love that. We could go everywhere, like Paris, Tokyo, maybe even somewhere wild like the Amazon."

"That sounds amazing, but what if life gets in the way? What if we don't get to do all those things?"

"Then we'll make our own adventures wherever we are. Even if it's just finding the best ice cream in town."

"Ice cream sounds good right now. As long as we don't lose this feeling, it'll all be okay, right?"

"Yeah, it will be. We have to keep believing in us. Do you think we'll change?"

"Of course, we'll change, but I hope we grow together, not apart."

Matt tugs on my hand again, more insistently this time, when the young couple walks into view. "Come on. This isn't for us to hear."

He's right. I turn, walking away with him, my sex sore in the best way from what we just did. Once back in the parking lot, we walk past the cheap-looking motorcycle—presumably the couple's ride—and to Matt's car.

"What was that about?" he asks, turning to me.

"Huh?"

"Listening to those two…" His eyes narrow as though part of him suspects the answer. Yet I don't know how that could be when I'm unsure.

I shrug. "They just sounded so in love. So sure. They sounded young, right?"

"They looked young when they came into view."

"But they were so sure ," I say.

Matt reaches up and gently smooths my hair from my face. "Is that what you want, to be that sure?"

My body tingles like song notes surging through me, telling me to get steamy with him again. The fact that we didn't go all the way is good. It means I didn't have to get into the whole never-had-sex-before deal.

"Do you?" I counter.